


Lawful Good, Lawful Neutral: Chaos Within

by kyuubi_wench



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Mild Gore, Multi, No Horcruxes, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape Recovery, Triggers, Voldemort dies for good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuubi_wench/pseuds/kyuubi_wench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry survives That Night, as do his parents. But how different will the life of the Boy-Who-Lived be, when he inherits something the Wizarding World has fairly forgotten? How different will his life lead when the blood of dragons long denied flows in his very veins?</p><p> </p><p>Spawned from a fic request made a few years ago on AFF by hieisdragoness18, which requested a draggie! Harry.  This... hopefully will get to what she wanted, but in the mean time, it's a new piece for me. SEE INSIDE NOTES FOR TRIGGERS AND WARNINGS!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is on- screen, non- descriptive rape in the prologue. The scene is short, but important to the plot. References to the rape continue further past the prologue, but there are no details of the act at any point. Please mind your triggers for this story.  
> This mentioned rape is also done by a creature, with no details whether it was done in beast or humanoid form. Later flashbacks imply bestiality, so if this bothers you, please turn back now. 
> 
> There is a lot of emotional strife, especially in the first parts of this story. I am trying to be as realistic and in- character as possible given what I have set up, so please keep in mind that I have spent a lot of time weaving what I have. I am NOT making light of the rape, or the recovery. That being said this is not something I have personal experience in and I *am* doing research, but every survivor reacts differently, so. Please, *please*, bear with me. 
> 
> Part of the rape aftermath and recovery I have included involves levels of child neglect and rejection. The complex relationship between mother and the child of a rape is *never* an easy topic, and I *must* warn for the paths this story takes in regards to that. I do apologize for this content. 
> 
> Again, if ANY of these triggers bother you, please feel free to go back. I will accept all criticism, but please do not flame simply because I am dealing with this particular triggers and content.

Prologue

 

It was a quiet, nearly moonless night, and peaceful considering the current political climes. The war between dark and light had been raging, usually in swift, deadly haunts and flashes of attacks, but they had been gradually worsening. It was a human affair, though, something that had dragged in various species of non-human and humanoid beings, but for the dragons that kept apart, this was nothing. This would pass in merely a flicker of time for the long- living, sentient breeds, the ones that could wield magic to rival the human wizards, the breeds that studied the world and held the old magics and legends in balance.

Lily Potter had no luck against such a being, could not have defended herself even if she knew they existed. She bent under the creature attacking her and fought with every magic she knew, unable to even apparate away. It was an encounter she would remember over the next many years with vivid horror and trepidation, soothed away by the human hands of her husband, secreted away from the rest of the world’s eyes. There was no way of knowing that something lay beyond the incident, a long- lingering element that would change her life unexpectedly.

Nearly a year after the attack, they welcomed their son into her life with a gentle smile, admiring the perfect little boy with his dimples and vibrant green eyes. Lily and James named him Harry and swore they would do whatever they could to protect their new son in these dangerous, violent times.

And then came the Night, when their little world shattered into a million pieces and lives got turned upside down.


	2. That Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has made it past the prologue and willing to try this story out: first, thank you. Second, hold onto your seat. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: 
> 
> Violence and Voldemort's admittedly gory death.  
> Continued trigger warnings for rape aftermath and start of child neglect.  
> Inhuman! baby Harry
> 
> ****
> 
> This fic was started on AFF a couple years ago. That version will be (for now) Null and Void until I reach the school years and then I shall see what can continue to be used and what cannot. Yes, my penname on AFF is Admiral ShadowWolf. We are the same person. I would delete said fic but the site is giving me trouble, so please stick to *this* version, for now. Thank you~

 

 

 

Halloween, All Hallow’s Eve, the night where the layers between the world and realms grows thin and magic breathes in everything that dares to acknowledge it- a night for traditions, new and old; a night for remembering.

 

It is Harry’s first real Halloween, a bright, smiling fifteen-month-old who treats the world as it is, where everything is as bright and beautiful as his parents can make of it. He sleeps securely upstairs in his crib, taking a short nap while Lily and James finish setting up for the after- dinner family- only party. The only people they’ve invited were Sirius and Remus, Peter having begged out before they could ask him. Busy, he had claimed weeks ago, and indeed he’s been busy and away, not daring to pop by for more than a few stolen moments at random intervals. So it’s with some enthusiasm and curiosity that the Potter adults greet a dripping Peter in their family room, moving quickly to shocked defensive when he abruptly waves his wand and has them wrapped up in summoned chains.

 

Their vocal outbursts and attempts at escaping are swamped moments later by an ear- shattering scream. James jumps Peter before the man can flee, ripping open a sleeve to bare the Dark Mark, while Lily bolts for the stairs. Her pounding feet are only stalled by a breathy moment, when the piercing baby’s cry stops, changes, and in its place there rises a muted, animalistic sound of rage. Lily freezes in the doorway of her son’s bedroom, just as a gleaming mound of scales tears into the chest of someone Lily has feared ever being in their house. The body of Lord Voldemort collapses to the floor, hand grasping uselessly at his wand as sharp teeth and claws rip into him, blood splashing onto the floor and walls faster than she’s ever witnessed anything. It is like a horrifying rendition of a dog throwing dirt as it digs, only red wet meat instead of brown dry earth.

 

Lily snaps out of her shock long enough to throw up a powerful shield, doubting she can do anything to pull the unknown creature off the no- doubt already-dead body of the enemy. She glances at the crib, currently empty, and risks attracting the creature’s attention as she yells for James.

 

Multiple feet pound up the stairs, James flanked by Sirius and Remus, gathering into a knot right behind her in the hall. It only takes a passing second before three wands point into the room, and James’ breathy voice breaks the terrible silence surrounding the soft fleshy sounds of viscera being mutilated. “Where’s Harry?”

 

A wedge-shaped head pop out of the warm carcass, scales and teeth and stunning, familiar green eyes. A forked tongue slithers out and laps delicately across the maw, revealing dull grey scales under the painting of blood. It utters a trilling, purring sound, eerily inhuman, and tries to step from the carcass, stumbling and rolling off the body. Splotches of red trail in its wake.

 

Lily promptly bolts for the nearby bathroom, flashbacks warring with the horror of current reality, and they force her to her knees beside the toilet. In the storm of sounds as the men behind her raise their voices, questions and demands for answers that go practically unheard, she processes what this means.

 

Her son is tainted by the creature that had violated her. The blood of the beast has undoubtedly saved her son from whatever Voldemort had intended, as the magical qualities of the skin and scales would repel nearly any spell. The gratitude that her family has survived the attack- one that Voldemort had _personally_ participated in- is darkly polluted with the harsh reality of _why_ little Harry is still alive, how he can survive this horrible incident.

 

Her precious son is little more than a beast. He is part dragon, a scandalous blend of magic and blood.

 

James gathers her into his arms a moment later, one hand holding back her hair as she leans over the toilet. His sure hands and arms help bring her mind back from the edge of shock, but she continues to cling to him as her world finishes shattering into a million pieces.

 

 

XX xx XX

 

 

Harry returns to human form within an hour, blood smeared across his little body, thick down his chest and under the fingernails. They’re stronger, thicker than most baby nails have any right to be, not quite sharp but definitely not normal. His eyes gleam in even the softest light, and when he smiles up at Lily his teeth are still pointed, sharp in his mouth. He has stopped looking strictly human, a little more of something from the beyond.

 

Sirius takes little Harry to the bathroom for a desperately needed bath, while Lily pulls out of the initial shock she’d slid right back into. James remains a shadow at her side, putting in a floo- call to Dumbledore, getting the notorious Light Lord to come figure out what they can do now, how to dispose of a now- dead Dark Lord. Remus plants himself just outside the bathroom door, guarding the hall from anything, everything. The feral nature in the boy already calls to him, calls for his wolf to stand on guard, whispering things stronger than merely being James’ friend ever has.

 

He is insanely grateful that tonight is the dark of the moon, as far from the call of the wolf as he can get, even as he feels the shifting of things under his skin. He won’t shift forms, not tonight, but he will protect the boy with an inborn ferocity that he cannot deny, does not _want_ to suppress.

 

It’s not by coincidence that Sirius is the first to notice the lumps under Harry’s skin, the harshness of the boy’s spine, the faint, hard lines buried along his shoulder blades and trapped under thin meat and thinner skin. Harry splashes around in the water, once free of Sirius’ scrubbing hands, grinning and cooing and _something_ , a noise Sirius can’t put a word to. Neither a purr or growl, but a rumbling in the boy’s chest. It seems to be a happy noise, regardless, and Sirius drains the filthy water while gently using an ‘aguamenti’ to rinse the boy off.

 

Sirius distantly hears Dumbledore’s quiet voice coming up the stairs an instant before Remus growls low, defensive and threatening, and Sirius has heard that sound a hundred times before. But Harry hears it this time, and he’s suddenly perching against the side of the tub, mouth open wide and green eyes flashing dangerously. The sharp screech echoes in Sirius’ ears, deafening him to Dumbledore’s continuing approach, to James’ voice soothing Remus, to everything but the sight of his godson, and the sound of his cry.

 

It doesn’t spare him from the sudden urge to change into Padfoot, to grab Harry up and run. He has no time to decipher _why_ he feels that way, just that he does, and that it calls to him powerfully.

 

Dumbledore doesn’t touch the boy, merely stands in the doorway and seems to make his own conclusions. He asks a few questions, words Sirius can’t hear past the ringing in his ears, but he can watch the way James and Lily answer, her face still washed-out, pale and scared. Sirius wraps the boy up, toweling him firmly while hard nails dig into his skin. He can sympathize, he supposes, since the last unknown intruder into the house had tried to hurt Harry, and the boy would, should be wary of another stranger in so little time. It doesn’t make it any easier to wrangle his godson, though. The boy moves now like he’s part fish, or snake, and it takes far long than it should have to realize that Harry’s body is trying to change back into the little dragon- shape while tucked into the towel.

 

Sirius growls low, just the human side of audible, and Harry stops in his squirming to look up at him, another of those weird, chest-vibrating sounds pouring out. Emerald met grey, staring at each other for a long moment before Harry reaches up and makes grabby gestures with very human hands. Sirius breathes out in sudden relief, thankful that Harry has calmed, if only a little.

 

His ears still ring, a little, even as words manage to filter in. Dumbledore’s asking Lily something, and when Sirius takes a good look at her face, she’s still shocked, so pale that he is honestly surprised she hasn’t fainted yet. He knows she is a strong woman, but this has shaken her, badly. He’s not sure what Dumbledore has asked, but he hears her answer. Well, most of it.

 

“No one. I don’t … to know.” Her voice quivers, matching the look of her, and James wraps his arms back around her shoulders. Sirius doesn’t need to hear to recognize the look on his face, not unlike the one when Lily came home that one day, slick with blood and fluids no sane wizard or witch would ever want to think about. The only reason Sirius and Remus even know, they were waiting with James at home that night, saw firsthand the state Lily was in when she walked through the door. She has never told anyone, except maybe James, who had done that unspeakable damage. She wouldn’t want anyone to know, not about that, not about the taint in her son, now exposed. Sirius suspects she would willingly obliviate them all if they’d let her. But Sirius refuses to let anyone screw with his mind like that.

 

He supposes he can’t blame her if she wants to, considering the situation. It doesn’t mean he will let her- not if it means someone will remember and help Harry the way the boy will need it.

 

 

 XxX XxX XxX

 

 

She stares at her son, wrapped up clean, warm, and dry in Sirius arms. She would apologize for making him bathe Harry, but even now she cannot look at her son and _not_ see the dull- grey scales, so much like the monster that had attacked her. Not when she has seen how he reacted to Dumbledore’s presence, like an animal in a corner and crying out in defiance. Not when those green eyes, so beautiful, so much like hers, had been so wild just moments before.

 

She hadn’t been able to make herself go wash her son, to get the blood and bits of flesh off him. She’d hidden in James’ arms, still holding her so tight, so human- strong, hidden and cried as she relived that night. Two years, two long years and it remains fresh in her mind, no matter how much she has tried to forget and move on. She’d left her son in Sirius’ arms, knowing he could handle it. Hell, Sirius is a dog sometimes, runs with a werewolf every full moon, while she stays home and watches her son.

 

Her scaled, inhuman little child, who is sitting in Sirius’ arms and making inhuman noises at the man.

 

“Lily, can you handle this?” James, her loyal, wonderful husband, who has always been at her side through the war and the rape and everything else. The one who made sure they have gotten quiet nights and she can have chances to relax occasionally. She wants to answer that voice, tell him she can handle this, but all she can see is green eyes and silver scales and so much _red_.

 

“Lily?”

 

“Don’t,” she breathes. Words refuse to come, words to explain the picture in her head, the memory, how this is filling her head and may drive her insane. Instead she shakes her head and buries her face against James’ shoulder, her arms wrapping around his chest and not caring that Dumbledore and Remus are standing right there to see her threatening to fall apart. “Can’t see…” she tries, when all she can smell and feel is her husband. “Can’t see my boy. Only see the dragon… he looks like _him_.” The admittance burns in her throat but she understands things cannot get better without speaking up. She has learned that much in the last two years.

 

She despises herself, a little, for not being able to see past the _thing_ that dug its way through Voldemort’s chest like it was just so much loose dirt. But it’s too soon, too violent, so vivid in her head that she cannot, not yet. Not with how much Harry had looked just like a mini version of that damned _beast_.

 

“I can’t deal with all this right now.”

 

James hugs her, then leaves her side for a moment, letting her lean against the wall. She doesn’t try to track him, just wraps her arms back around herself and stares blankly at the bottom of the opposite wall. James returns within a minute, cradling her back against his body. “Sirius will watch Harry for a couple days. We’re going to let Dumbledore clean the house up, get rid of the body. You and I are going to find a nice quiet room, a little hotel where they don’t know us. It’ll just be the two of us, so we can calm down. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

 

She forces herself to move, to thank Sirius for his kindness, and manages to lean over enough to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Her son smiles and makes another one of those odd, inhuman noises, and Lily can’t stay. She flees, tears pouring down her cheeks at being unable to even look at her son right now. He’s _her_ boy, but he’s _his_ as well. His spawn.

 

Dragon’s spawn.

 

She misses finishing her goodbyes, curled into the corner and weeping, at a loss to how this could ever be right again.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olorisstra has been both my beta/ idea bouncer and hand- holding me as I wrote this chapter and the ones that follow. Without her I would have probably muddled things and skirted around how the important sensitive issues impact everything else. Thank you, darling~


	3. Aftermath

A ‘couple days’ are more like three, before Lily and James showed up at Sirius’ door. They manage to get about half an hour of social time before Lily starts shivering again, hands clenching in her lap. James apologizes, but Sirius merely nods and carries Harry back to the makeshift nursery he’s managed to set up since bringing Harry to his home. It’s not Grimmauld Place, with suites of rooms, but there’s enough space to give Harry a large enough room for all the toddler things, and decent play space. 

It becomes a four times a week affair, with Lily trying to be a good mother, and struggling to hold onto herself. When she slides from happy to a sniffling mess after the fourth week, unable to continue playing with Harry after he’s hissed happily at his toys, Sirius sends them home. He has grown tired of watching the family fall apart; he is unable to blame Lily for her reactions to the situation, but is more unhappy with the way Harry stares after her. Sirius can tell that Harry is already detaching himself from his mother. He is less happy to see her each visit, becomes quicker to go back to his toys or to come play with Sirius after Lily leaves. 

She is losing her place in his world, whether she wants to realize it or not. 

He fire-calls James the next day, asks him to come over without Lily. James arrives at Sirius’ house a few minutes later, asking worried questions about Harry, if his son is well. Sirius manages to reassure him that Harry is still healthy, happy, nothing has changed since the day before. “He’s taking a nap, and resting well,” Sirius adds, settling into one of the lounge chairs in the small den. The fireplace in the corner crackles happily. “I just have some worries about how he’s reacting to Lily.” 

“What do you mean?” James sits, lowering himself into a slightly threadbare but still plush chair. Sirius sits on the edge of his own chair, tense in a way he usually isn’t when just around James. 

“He’s disconnecting, where he’s no longer seeing her as his mother. She’s not here every day, and she can’t spend a long time around him before she leaves, stressed. I would advise that you two need to take Harry home before he starts thinking she’s nothing more than a playmate who stays about as long as the house-elves. I haven’t studied in this particular field, but I have seen this kind of disassociation before. Either he goes home with you, and very soon, so that you two remain as his parents, or he’s not going to care anymore about who you are.” 

“She can’t-… ” James stops, catching his words mid-defense. His jaw twitches, staring down at his lap for a moment before looking back at Sirius. He understands that his friend would not bring this up if it was not a serious issue. “She’s not ready yet. I could force the issue, maybe, but I don’t know if that would snap her out of it, or make her worse.” 

Sirius sits back slightly, now that he knows James is willing to listen. “I have a suggestion. It may not go well, but it will give all of us a better idea of how to handle this before the whole situation worsens.” He pauses, long enough James looks up to give him his full attention. “I want you to talk to Lily. Try to spend a whole afternoon- join us for lunch, stay until dinner, go home. She will be welcome to retreat to a private room if she needs a few minutes, but if she cannot handle a simple afternoon with her son, then I fear for her relationship with Harry.” 

James nods slowly, considering his friend’s words. It is a simple request, made difficult only by the situation. An afternoon with their son… it should not be difficult, should be something normal, and it isn’t. “I will talk to her. I cannot promise anything but an answer.” 

Silence reigns for a few long minutes, until soft noises filter down the hall. Harry is awake, amusing himself. Sirius stands, knowing he needs to get to the boy within the next couple of minutes. “I don’t want you to have to choose, James,” he admits softly. “But I truly worry about Lily, and Harry. I’ll be here as long as you want me, okay?” 

“Thank you.” James turns to the fireplace, needing to get home and talk to Lily. Sirius is right- they need to get this sorted soon, instead of waiting. “I’ll let you know what we decide.” 

 

XxX XxX XxX XxX

 

‘It didn’t go well’ is a _nice_ way to call what happens a few days later. Lunch goes well, but after… it just disintegrates. 

Harry, in all his childhood enthusiasm, crawls around with his toys, playing with a ball charmed to hover about an inch off the floor. His early babbling is mixed with soft growls and little cooing noises, sounds that set Lily on edge. A break, some ten or fifteen minutes in, helps, but Lily comes back still looking strained. It sets the theme for the afternoon, the stressful strain written all over her, the amount of control she exerts over herself as she tries to stay longer each round before taking a break. It stretches their family time out into nearly three hours, longer than she’s managed so far. 

Finally, Sirius sets Harry down for a snack, urging James to sit with his son. He finds Lily in the sitting room, arms wrapped around herself, shaking. “Did James tell you why I wanted you to be here today?” She nods, but doesn’t answer further, even when he gives her the time to do so. “I don’t want to kick you out of your son’s life. But he can’t survive like this, with his mother running off to hide constantly. He will probably grow to hate you, be unable to trust you, because you cannot be there for him.” 

“I’m trying!” She shouts, before collapsing in on herself. “I can’t look at him, without seeing…” She takes a shaky breath, refrains from finishing the sentence. “I don’t know how to deal with it,” she quietly confesses. “I want my son, but not the _thing_ hiding inside him.” 

Sirius stiffens at the words, suddenly more certain than ever this won’t work out. “Then permit me my duties as his godfather. You are unable to care for him. He would stay here with me. You can visit whenever you want, and I will never deny you your parental rights, as long as you have his best interest at heart. Holidays, birthday, whenever you think you can handle spending time with him, my doors are open. But be ready for the fallout, when he stops seeing you as his mother. When you become just some woman to him, another temporary adult in his life. I won’t lie to you, say he’ll love you and always think of you fondly. You’ll have to put the work in if you want to be a positive part of his life.” He notes the slightly incensed look on her face, but doesn’t let her put in a word, yet. “I hope I can teach him how to control the change. I can’t make promises, but if he was able to return to himself without anything more than calming down, he may have more control over the change and what appears. In time he might be able to control it as an animagus would, instead of having the utter lack of control of the wolf. I hope to teach him what it means when one is more than just human.” 

“But animagus choose, and have control.” Lily looks at him, and he can tell she's trying to understand the implications without accusing. She's married to an animagus, after all, but James...

“James has iron will control over the stag that is his animagus form. It doesn't affect him in the same ways as the dog affects me, and nothing like what the wolf does to Lupin. I admit, I like to revel in the freedom my animagus form gives me. It's a freeing experience to give in, just a little. But when you do-” he pauses, considers his words. “Sometimes the instincts leak into who you are, when you give in that much. The need to protect, to scent out threats and know who, exactly, is within my home. It is something shared between myself and my other form, and I see no point in resisting those particular instincts.” 

Silence filled the room, Lily nodding slightly as she thinks over the little revelations. “You hope to teach him how to balance himself,” she states finally. 

“Yes.” And it wouldn't be by making him feel ashamed of himself. Sirius doesn't say it, but he has no doubt that Lily- intentionally or not- would have that affect on Harry. And that would only make the problem worse. “Let me do what I can. For all of you.” 

Lily glances at the door one more time, no doubt thinking of James and Harry, off in another room. And then she deflates, sinking in a bit on herself. “Yes. Please.” 

 

***

 

Time seems to flow differently after that. James comes over often, the first few months, and Lily comes over occasionally , but he always stays longer. Sirius works with that, helps them make a schedule they can all work around, but as the months pass Lily's visit slow to a trickle, until she's barely visiting once a month. 

And then comes the day she drops by unannounced, take one look at a huge scruffy dog curled around a little dragon- body, and leaves. Cool black eyes watch her floo away, the little dragon never even bothered by her presence, and knows she won't come visiting for a long time. Padfoot stays curled around Harry until the scales start to flake off, some disappearing into dust and some maintaining their shape, as Harry returns to a pink- fleshed human toddler. 

Sirius makes a game of picking up the leftover scales and storing them away, already resigned to his, and Harry's, situation. 

Lily _needs_ to take the time to get therapy and overcome her issues before coming back. Every time she seems to make improvement and then comes to visit she slides back again, and Sirius has been waiting for this day, when child ignores mother and mother walks away without a word. He used to dread it, but now that it has happened, he resolves himself to pick up the pieces and be the best damned parent he can be. Harry is almost two, and already eager and learning anything- everything- Sirius is willing to teach him. The kid is smart, eerily smart, but Sirius chalks up some of it to the dragon heritage. 

He has had to go looking among the Muggle fairy tales and legends to find the dragon Harry most resembled, for none of the 'dumb beasts' that wizards worked with matched. The silvery breed the Muggles love are legendary, rumored to be able to assume a human, or humanoid form, and mingle with people. They are smart, crafty, and persistent. And they are among the sternest rulers among dragon kind, if the stories are true. Sirius only hopes that at least the human form part of that is true and Harry will be able to master the transformation before he goes to school. 

For now, he can teach Harry, and in time a tutor, before the inevitable challenge of Hogwarts awaits. And while the regular lessons can wait a couple years, the lessons in control are going to have to start soon. 

He's looking forward to them, even as much as he knows it'll be one of his biggest challenges so far- right up there with surviving a war. It'll just be a different sort of battle, private and at home, of mind over instincts, of habit and patience, possibly of animal nature, dominance, and command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer to last chapter commented about Harry and James, and about how James feels about the whole thing. Promise, that's next chapter. For now he's focused on making sure Lily doesn't fall into a depression or let this whole thing break her. When he's had more time, he'll have the chance to poke at his own thoughts- and we'll see the aftermath of that later. Seizansha, thank you for reminding me that James needs to have his voice represented as much as Lily does. It's well appreciated.


	4. James' Thoughts

By the time the last snow has fallen and is fading in favor of little clusters of flowers , Harry has mastered a rolling run on two legs and is trying, furiously, to figure out his wings in his other form. They aren't quite large enough to achieve any sort of lift, and Sirius wonders- not for the first time- if part of flight for the species Harry seems to come from needs magic to help power their flight. But there's no one to ask, and little research he can do beyond what he's already found. 

Harry hasn't started showing displays of accidental magic beyond the shift, though, and while in normal wizarding children that might be a concern, Sirius does not bother. He can feel and smell the magic on his godson; and no doubt the transformation burns what little stores his body can manage anyway. So they focus on other things, things any child should know- numbers, letters, shapes, and colors; and for the special fact of _who_ he is, Sirius teaches the basic runes, side-by-side with letters and numbers. As Harry learns to count and sound things out, he also learns to recognize the importance of the basics of magic – runes that could hold power and capture meaning and intent, and maintain it far longer than most basic spells. 

Sirius avoids teaching him the patterns of the runes, or how to put them together to create the powerful rites the runes can invoke. Instead he teaches identity and meaning, and cautions against using them. Considering Harry is not yet two years old, it is nearly unnatural how well he retains the concepts, the fact he will recognize and point out shapes and runes, but never draws the runes. No matter how shaky the other things he draws, they can never be mistaken for rune-work. 

It's something Sirius never fails to show James when the man stops in to visit his son, squished in between the job and wife, showing up as often as he can manage. Even after Lily stops coming, Sirius keeps James updated, sharing the joys of progress made in whatever little ways they happen. Sirius takes a measure of relief that at least James visits, and does not hesitate to get onto the floor and play with his son no matter which body the boy is in. He manages to turn lessons into play, and between them both Harry learns. 

Sirius tugs James away one day when Harry has curled up on the stones of the hearth, safely away from the flames, tail curled under his pointy chin. They settle at the dining table, at the end of the long room. There's an illusion of privacy while still being able to keep an eye of the little dragon- shape, even though Sirius knows damn well he's nowhere close to being out of Harry's hearing range. 

“How are things?” Sirius asks, summoning the teapot from its place in the kitchen. He had started the steeping process several minutes before while James had rubbed a soft cloth over Harry's little dull grey wings, the grooming bonding them in ways that bridged over the difference in species. By now the tea should be strong enough to drink and just barely cool enough not to burn their mouths. 

“Better, in a way. I think I have my schedule worked out. Had to limit the volunteer work we're doing to the weekends, though I think she's helping a bit while I'm at work.” James adds a bit of sugar and stirs, thinking. “Lily finally started some counseling. I think it's helping with the dreams, if nothing else, yet. I wish she could be here, but...” He trails off and Sirius nods. He understands what James has left unsaid. It's far too early yet. “On a different topic, though, news has it the clean-up efforts have been going well. Auror forces have been out in mass and bringing in the marked Death Eaters. Not everyone, but they have dozens of suspects and some that will definitely see the inside of Azkaban.” 

“Miserable place,” Sirius mutters. He indulges James for the moment, although the answer he's looking for hasn't come around yet. “Any rumors of people getting out of charges? I imagine some of the families have enough money...” 

“And the Ministry is not void of corruption,” James heaves a sigh. “I'm not in a position to hear everything, but I'll keep you updated on things as I hear 'em. It's not like I work in the auror division. By the way, if things continue as they are, they're planning on hosting the next match- or more likely, the one after- a bit closer to England. Seeing as how things from the war are starting to settle down.” 

“I can't wait until we take Harry to his first big Quidditch match. Our luck, he'll have your talent on a broom.” 

“He won't *need* a broom, if he keeps on like that.” It's quiet and spoken with a smile, but there's tension underneath. Sirius glances at the pile of scales that comprises his godson before focusing back on James. He's not worried yet that Harry will wake and hear the wrong thing. 

“James, please. Talk to me.” 

James tries to force a smile, and maybe he could have shrugged it off but then the bravado is gone. “He's my son. I see her gorgeous eyes and nose and my chin and cheekbones, and I think, he's going knock 'em dead when he gets to dating. And then I see him all wrapped up like that... Sirius, I worry. What if he's like Moony? What if he can never control the change? It's been months and I know he's just a babe, but he slides between forms easily and without any apparent control. What if the Ministry finds out he exists – that Harry Potter is not human- and decide he's a danger to us all? What then? I will die to protect my son, Sirius, you know that. But I don't want it to come to that.” 

Sirius lets out a measured breath. At least James doesn't look down at Harry like Lily does- even if he can sympathize with her, it's not good for the mother-son relationship. “You know what we do if he can't control the change? We get him used to us, to Padfoot and Prongs, while he's still young. Give him companions to play with and keep his attention. We look into what it would take to give him a measured area outside that he can't escape from, and will keep him protected from stray attention. And then we go digging into the ancient lines and legislation. We aren't that removed from the old inheritances, James. Magic will render what it will, and you are a pureblood family line. There must be something, _somewhere_ , we can use to our purpose to defend Harry should anything happen.” Sirius flicks his wand at the teapot, sending it back to rest near the stove to stay warm. He doubts they'll drink the whole pot quite yet. “The War is over, James. There is no need to throw your life away when we have time and options.” 

“But we don't _have_ much time. He'll need to start lessons soon, and even with a tutor he needs to be able to not be a threat.” A shadow flickers through James' eyes, and Sirius reaches across the table, laying his hand within reach, palm up. It's an offer, friendship and familiarity and support. 

“I don't understand how he survived,” James admits in a whisper. He doesn't reach for Sirius' offered hand, fingers tight around his cup. There's something shaky about him, although his hand doesn't visibly tremble, there's a tension in the muscles that cannot escape Sirius' notice. 

“He's not... Harry's dragon body is nothing like what is reported in the wizarding world. I've been searching, wondering what species would dare land and do.. such acts, to a human. It's not sensible. But the muggles... they have had stories of dragons, for as long as we have had them, and I believe I found what his dragon is. It is what he is that spared him, James, both the magic in his blood, and his blood itself. If the muggle legends are true, James, he has a lot of potential magic locked in his body.” Sirius glances over at Harry, gesturing at the dragon. “Dragon skin and scales repel most magic and spells. His senses are that of a predator, a young one, so he'll be more aware of threats and danger. And I haven't finished testing it but his scent and hearing rival Moony's. It is no wonder that he survived the invasion of an unknown, malevolent threat into his den, once you consider blood and magic.” 

“Muggles, Sirius?” James snaps out. “Hasn't the Ministry made it a point to feed the muggles lies? To keep the magical community as a whole safe, from the judgment and trials of generations past? How can you believe that the _muggles_ have a legend right?” 

“I said _if_. _If_ they are right. I'm still searching.” Sirius keeps his voice down, calm. “There are few with the coloring or body type that Harry has, especially as young dragons, that the Ministry keeps records on and allows for public knowledge. None of them match Harry. I am simply exploring my options, because there's no way I'm going to say it's impossible when I have to clean scales off my floors at least twice a day.” 

James frowns but folds in on himself, glancing over his shoulder at his son. “If you can confirm it, I want to know. Better than being clueless.” 

“Whatever I can find out, I'll get to you. I just wanted to wait until I was more certain. I _know_ how ridiculous it sounds, the muggles maybe having it right. But I'm running out of wizarding sources, and while some of the things match, most don't. I had to expand my search. Who knows, maybe the things muggles think they have dreamed up for stories are badly- executed obliviates.”

James raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. It's not uncommon, an obliviate gone wrong due to a caster's failure or a particularly resistant mind. But _muggles_ , really? And it's not like he can question Lily if she heard anything growing up about such things, not without possibly triggering her. Her sister... James cringes at the path of his thoughts and wipes them away. He met the woman once and the mutual dislike could have torn the block apart. 

“I'll see what I can look into on the Potter bloodlines. It'll give me something to do for the situation.” He announces. It's the best thing he can think of to help, other than seeing if there's resources in the Ministry he can scrounge up without drawing the wrong attention. 

The place is still patching itself up after the fallout of the war and the corruption still being ferreted out. He really doesn't need to make himself a target. But he should be able to get some research done without raising any warning signs. And there is the extensive library at Potter Manor, which should have family histories, both general and personal. He can research into how they can mask this. For much more than just Lily's self- opinion and potential embarrassment. 

“I'll keep you updated,” Sirius murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because one of my reviewers reminded me that James needs his voice heard on this stuff as well. Here's part of it. Maybe not as much as they were hoping but it's a start.


	5. Day in the Life of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!! Didn't realize I'd been sitting on a whole 'nother chapter while I fought with the one that I'm working on (It's not wrapping right and annoying me...) I offer this as a peaceful offering - house and home from bb! Harry's perspective. It's not really perfect, I don't think, but it's gotten good feedback from my brainstorm buddies. Hope it works~

Harry rolls over, stretching out his little feet and yawning. Siri, the one who smells like dog and person, sugar and strong tea, with that funny tingle that he calls 'magic', he should be somewhere. Close, from the tingle in his nose. The closer Unca Siri is, the stronger the funny feeling gets. He brings his hand up and scratches, not even noticing his hand is really a paw, claws scraping wonderfully against his scaled snout. He sneezes. 

The sound brings Unca Siri's face around the corner, smiling down at him and making happy- sounding words. They sound funny, and Harry frowns as he tries to understand. Words don't sound the same when he's in four legs instead of two. He huffs, more breath than sound, and nuzzles up against Siri's leg. The response is immediate and predicted, as hands wrap around his chest behind his stubby wings and he's lifted high. It's Harry's turn to make happy noises, noises that rumble his chest and gets him a tighter hug. It's soothing, tight and warm and _safe_. He rubs the smooth scales over his forehead against the side of Siri's neck, and then everything in his head melts away into wordless pleasure as blunt nails dig into the scales between his wings. 

It's a place he can't scratch in either of his bodies and it feels so damn _good_. 

Sirius carries him out into what he call the den- a somewhat large room with a fire cracking merrily in one wall- and Harry wriggles until he's put down. He can _almost_ touch the flames when he is on four legs and scaled- they're warm but don't _hurt_ the way they threaten to do when he's just got skin and two legs. He feels the itch of magic brush past him, feels it condense around the fire in what Unca Siri has called an 'anti-burn charm'. Whatever that is. All he knows is that he _can't_ touch the flames at all, now, not without having to push really hard at the tingly magic- which pushes _back at him_. 

He doesn't get why. As long as he wears more than his people- skin, as Siri has started calling it, he doesn't get hurt. There's something special about his scales. 

His favorite game involves picking them up and hiding them away. They're special, like Siri's magic is special, like the visits from the man Siri calls James, the man who says he's his dad- that sort of special. Maybe more special. He doesn't have the words for it. 

Harry presses his nose against the magic surrounding the fire, just to feel the tingle of it pushing back, the funny way it smells almost exactly like nothing but he can _feel_ it. Tingles and a force that will not budge more than the meager dent it allows him, keeping him well enough from the flames that he can barely bask in the warmth. 

And then his stomach grumbles. Must be time to go back to people- skin, cause Unca Siri is insisting he eats with those things called a fork and spoon, instead of his fingers all the time. He _likes_ eating with his fingers – he makes less of a mess and he _doesn't_ like when his food is somewhere it's not supposed to be. Plate, yes. Fingers and face, yes. Sometimes even on his shirt, is okay, cause Unca Siri knows how to make it clean again. But not the floor. Not the chair. Using fingers means he can move most of his food exactly where he wants- but some things are more messy with his fingers. 

He backs up from the fire and frowns at the flames, knowing he needs to be back in people- skin. It itches when his scales come loose, and he scratches at them until his claws are fingers and most of what he can see is pale people- skin and little mounds of scales. He pushes himself off the floor, picks up the scales, and carries them to the drawer meant just for them. It takes three trips, and then he goes to Siri- who's watched the whole time, making sure he did good- and holds his hands up. 

“ 'unch, unca. P'ease?” 

'Unca Siri' just smiles, picks him up, and carts him away for a late lunch. 

 

Harry is scowling at the peas on his plate, stubbornly chasing one with a fork while deftly plucking the others up with his fingers. They're annoying, but he can feel the weight of Siri's gaze and it keeps him from just smashing the thing. A couple peas go rolling and there's a sudden thick feeling in the back of his nose and throat, like that time he accidentally inhaled dirt, and he quickly glances over them. They're almost in the lightning- like shape of one of the runes Siri has shown him, the shapes that he knows must be used for magic. They don't have the same tingly- feel, but the shape of them is enough to form.. something, and he quickly scatters the peas. The tension and not- right feeling breaks. He puts the fork down in the slightly- messy scattering of tiny green balls and looks up. 

“Be done?” he asks, hopeful. He wants to go play, forget the pressure. He doesn't like the feeling of the funny shapes Siri has shown him, things he calls runes. 

“ 'May I be excused?',” Sirius corrects. There's patience, coaxing in his voice and Harry nods, thinking the words through. 

“May .. be... 'scuzed?” he manages. Unca Siri gives him a nods and a smile, and Harry wiggles from his chair and runs off toward his room, only to turn sharply and poke his head back in the kitchen. “T'anks Unca Siri.” 

He gets a smile back, and Harry wanders toward his room, poking his head into the den when he thinks he hears something. The fire is a different color, and he swears there's a voice coming from it. 

But there's no smell and he can't see what or who, just that it isn't right, and he slides backwards out of the room. Scales already spread against his skin and he utters a sound he doesn't have a word for. It always brings his uncle running though, and sure enough there are pounding footsteps in the hall and Sirius brushes past him, wand drawn and smelling sharp and itchy, almost burning. Harry curls up against the wall, wings and legs tucked in close, head frozen between the curve of his wings. If he's still enough, he can pass as a toy. 

He will be still. He must be still. Safety, if he can stay hidden. 

There's a sound of a relieved chuckle and two voices now, and then Sirius comes out into the hall. “Harry?” he calls, and then spots the lump of silvery- grey on the floor. “Hey, come on, it's okay.” 

Harry watches as Sirius gets down on his knees and extends his hands. They smell less tingly, and the wand is put away, and there's smells, happy- after- fear smells. Harry shuffles forward and noses along Sirius's hand, letting the scent that seems very much only Unca Siri's fill his nose. He tries to ask if it's okay, because the voice is calm but the words don't sit right in his ears like this, and the question comes out in a sharp, lingering whine. 

Sirius picks him up, cradles Harry against his chest and carries him toward the den. Harry shoves his nose against Siruis' throat, nosing along the smells there. It plasters his body against the mass of Sirius' chest, wings spread just below the spread of his collarbone, tail and legs cradled oh so gently. Sirius settles in his chair, the big comfortable cushy one, and calls out toward the fire. Harry ducks his head just enough to see it from one eye, attentive to what might change. 

The flames flicker, and then a mass comes pulling through, and Harry recognizes the smells before he knows the body, wild earth and fur, like Unca Siri's, but somehow more dangerous. There's less of a tingle from this one, like his magic is less, but there are other smells today. Harry scrunches his nose and tries to identify the smells with words. Tired. Like really, really tired. Sad- upset scent. Stink- scent. He needs a bath. Bath, cuddles, and sleep. 

Having decided what needs doing Harry squirms until Unca Siri lets him goes and scrambles over to say hi to Unca Moony. 

Remus Lupin gives Harry a smile and kneels down to gather the small dragon into his arms. No matter how rough a full moon night, coming here to be welcomed by his nephew and Sirius always helps him feel better, safer. Something a little closer to a human with a home. Harry's muzzle noses up along his jaw then sneezes, and he squirms in a way that makes Remus release him. Harry grabs him by the pants leg and tugs, gently but insistently. Glancing at Sirius, who shrugs to the unspoken question, Remus follows the persistent motions. 

He huffs a soft sound when Harry coerces him into the bathroom, and Sirius gives a small chuckle and a smaller sniff. “He's just a pup, Moony. Get a shower and I’ll have something warm for you to drink when you're out. Work?” 

Harry makes happy- pleased rumbling sounds when Remus scratches over his head and then disappears behind the door. He waits until vibrations and the right sounds for the bath start up, then scampers after his other uncle and watches from the edge of the counter as Sirius set up the rest of lunch and some fresh tea. 

Sirius sighs and lifts Harry from the counter-top, hand sliding over the small gouge marks. Harry doesn't leave time for sulking, though, instead he nuzzles against his uncle and then slinks off. Several minutes later he returns, riding on Remus' shoulders, tail draped over one and a wing propped up against the sand- colored hair. 

They spend the afternoon in the den, Harry basking in the presence of family, flitting between the men and sliding easily between forms, stealing scents and cuddles and comfort. When Remus slumps to sleeping in his chair, Sirius carefully takes him to the guest bed. 

Harry spends a fun vigil in the hall, distracted by his toys, but never unaware of the man behind the half- closed door. He lingers until Sirius finds him and takes him off for dinner, and returns after. Remus smells less like sad and tired, and definitely clean. 

Sirius finds them an hour later, Harry curled up in pajamas and tucked against Remus, the little head resting on a worn shoulder. Safe in the arms of a wolf.

It's a pretty safe place to be, tonight.


End file.
